


A Thousand Times

by WildflowerWeasley



Series: The Sayre Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Post-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 06:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19145794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildflowerWeasley/pseuds/WildflowerWeasley
Summary: Ginny Weasley joins her best friend across the pond only to have her dreams become reality.Series inspired by weekly prompts in the Spellbound Monthly group





	A Thousand Times

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the following Spellbound Monthly prompts:
> 
> You’re vacationing in a city you've never been in before when you suddenly find yourself in a place you’ve seen hundreds of times in your dreams. The person you see in those dreams is there too, and they slowly turn around and ask, ”is it really you?”
> 
> Zephyr: a gentle mild breeze
> 
> Shout out to my beautiful friends/betas UnicornsAndWrackspurts51 and IKEAwhatyoudidthere, you both inspire me to be a better writer. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

_September, 2006_

 

Her brush swept across the canvas in gentle, practised strokes as she finished her work, covering the once white surface in the rich colours of autumn. Rusty red, mustard yellow, and fiery orange swirled around a stone grey centre and the dark shadow of a person standing near it, but there were no defined shapes of leaves or the person who stood amongst them. It was as if someone had taken a picture of an autumn day and blurred it until it was almost unrecognizable. Ginny sat back wiping her brow with the back of her hand and tilted her head -  she knew this place well.

“Until we meet again…” She whispered.

She dropped her brushes into the jar of oil soap beside her and wiped down her palette while her mind wandered to the olive coloured eyes and sandy brown hair that normally graced her canvas. The dream was frequent, she had wandered into that copse of trees and felt the soft breeze kiss her face a thousand times. Her journals were filled with sketches and paintings of the same circle of trees and the same man, though he had been a little boy when she first met him there.

In her earliest memory of him, he had been running around the statue that stood in the middle of the clearing. His laughter filled the air around her and he beckoned her to help him gather leaves into a pile for them to jump into. Later, he had read or simply sat with her. They never spoke, but somehow she had never felt as safe as she did in those dreams with him. As a teenager, she had often wished that the boy was real. Many mornings found her in her bed with her eyes squeezed shut trying to hold onto every detail of his smile or the way his hair fell into his eyes.

Shaking herself from her memories, Ginny finished cleaning up and grabbed her bag before locking up the studio and going up the stairs to her flat.

Sunday meant dinner at her mum and dad’s and she knew that showing up in paint-splattered dungarees would cause her mum to fuss. As she climbed the stairs to her door, her front pocket began to chime and she shook her head.

“Hello, gorgeous!” Ginny greeted her friend brightly.

“Hey, love! I know it’s Sunday, I hope I’m not interrupting dinner.”

“Nah, I’m just heading up for a shower before I go over, you know mum. How are you doing Mia? It’s been ages!”

“Well, something has come up and I have a proposition for you… I know you’ve been doing well with your shop but I wondered if you had ever thought about teaching.”

Ginny was quiet for a moment as Hermione’s words processed. “Teaching? I don’t know Hermione… I’ve never tried to teach anyone how to paint, I just… _do_ it.”

“No, I know. It’s just that the woman who was teaching the art class here has decided to retire and we’re looking for a replacement.”

Ginny thought about it, her shop _was_ doing well but not nearly well enough to cover all of her expenses. She was currently surviving thanks to the portrait she had done of Theodore Nott’s wife and two-year-old daughter.

“Let me think about it, okay? I’ll speak to mum and dad and call you tomorrow.”

Hermione released a relieved sigh and Ginny laughed lightly.

“Gin, I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’ll consider. The woman who wants the position is a complete hag.”

“Of course! Talk soon, love.”

Could she live in America? Hermione loved her new home and had been nagging her to visit for over a year, she had just never got around to it. She dropped her bag onto the couch as she passed it and stepped into her bathroom to strip off her paint covered clothes.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she was warming to the idea. Her life felt stagnant here. After finishing school, everyone had expected her to marry Harry Potter and run off into the sunset. Of course, that was never meant to happen and they both knew it.

She had opened her studio a year after graduation and put her paintings up for sale, but most of her income came from custom portraits. Would she enjoy sharing her craft with others? Teaching a young generation and possibly inspiring some of them to become artists… that _did_ sound pretty cool.

* * *

 

_October, 2006_

 

”Alright Hermione, I’m here…where are you?” Ginny whispered softly.

Rich brown eyes scanned the surrounding area in search of her best friend to no avail, and with a sigh, she reached into her purse searching for her cell phone. Why was this thing so fucking small?! She rummaged for another minute before the tiny device began to ring and she snatched it from its hiding place.

”Listen here, witch, I did not just travel thousands of miles for you to stand me up. Where are you? I need to see your face!”

”I know, I know!” Hermione wailed. ”I swear I’m almost there and I can’t wait to see you either.”

Ginny bobbed her head. ”Okay, fine, but you owe me a drink! See you in a bit.” She dropped the phone back into the depths of her bag, resigned to wait in the busy portkey office, and leaned against the nearest wall.

It had been a month since Hermione called to offer her a job and Ginny had decided almost immediately to take it. Selling her flat and the shop below had been easy and she spent the rest of the time packing up, anxious to begin this new chapter in her life.

Hurried steps echoed across the floor, breaking the redhead out of her reverie, and she straightened up to enthusiastically embrace the curly-haired witch.

“Hi! Oh, Ginny I’m so happy to see you.”

”Me too. Merlin, I’ve missed you! You look beautiful!”

Hermione blushed at the compliment and waved her off before taking Ginny’s suitcase. “I think you’re really going to love it here Gin, especially this time of the year. The colours are breathtaking.”

Ginny bobbed her head following the witch out onto the street. “I brought that huge canvas you asked for, any idea what you want me to paint yet?”

“No, I’m sure that whatever you decide on will be perfect. I just haven’t been able to find the right piece for the living room yet.”

They weaved their way through and around the myriad people and around the back of a building before Hermione took her hand and squeezed. With a nod of her head confirming she was ready and an excited smile for the adventure ahead, the two women disappeared.

Massachusetts was truly beautiful. Hermione lived in the small wizarding community of Sayre, named for the founder of Ilvermorny. Her little house sat on the outskirts of the town common and was full of warmth and charm. Ginny had been excited to find that the brunette had given her an upstairs bedroom which had its own bathroom and a stunning view.

The sun shone through the large window now, beckoning her to rise and meet the day, and the smell of coffee threatened to lure her out from under her covers. With her eyes still closed, Ginny reached for the journal on her bedside stand and a pencil. Opening her eyes, she flipped to a new page and tried to hold on to the memory of her dream as she sketched each detail. He was smiling, his dimples on full display and his eyes were bright. With a sigh of longing, she closed the book and followed her nose into the kitchen.

”Please tell me you're going to make those pumpkin roll things today. I think I’ll die if you don't.”

Hermione snorted from her place by the oven and handed the redhead a cup of coffee, ”Good morning to you as well. I am, in fact going to make _those pumpkin roll things_ today. Would you like to help me?”

Sipping from her mug Ginny nodded and volunteered to go to the market for ingredients. She wanted to wander around a bit, maybe just sit outside and watch people going about their days. ”Mia, are there any shops nearby that sell paints?”

”Yes! It’s two doors down from the bookshop.” Hermione said as she pulled a tray from the oven. “The owner, Alma, is around your mum’s age. She's a right laugh and could probably tell you stories of every person in town.” She turned then, bringing two muffins from the tin and placing them onto plates. Her smile was warm as she slid Ginny her plate. ”Have I mentioned how excited I am that you’re going to be teaching with me?”

”Only every minute or so…” she chuckled. “So, I thought I might take my journal and go looking for inspiration. This canvas won’t paint itself after all.”

”I think that sounds brilliant, I’ll get you the list for the market and we’ll bake when you come home.”

Town square, as Hermione had referred to it, was where all of the shops, owl post office and market were located. There was a small primary school for the town’s younger children right outside the square where Hermione, and now she, worked. Ginny found that she loved how cosy Sayre felt, all of the local witches and wizards had been kind and helpful, acting as if they'd known her forever. It was different from the hustle and bustle she had become accustomed to living in Diagon Alley.

With her errands now accomplished, she left Bewitched Brushes and placed her new satchel filled with fresh supplies into the basket of her bicycle. Her stomach growled as she mounted the bike and she turned to the right, intent on stopping for a bite to eat at the little cafe Hermione had gone on about. Apparently Hazel, the witch who owned it, made the best food in town.

She rode slowly down the cobblestone street and closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the fresh air. She felt calm and serene as a zephyr washed over her and shifted the large richly coloured leaves in the trees lining her path. This was perfection.

As she pedalled closer to the cafe, her eyes were drawn to a gate on the outskirts of the square that she hadn't noticed before. She slowed down, placing a boot on the ground and her eyebrows creased as she stared, a strange feeling filling her belly.

”Right… Gin, you can always check it out on the way back. Lunch and pumpkin rolls are at stake here.” With one last look over her shoulder, she made her way to the cafe.

After standing the bicycle up against a nearby tree, Ginny quickly stepped through the gate she had seen earlier. The uneasy feeling had not left her and she felt that she _had_ to go in and see what lay behind those trees.

She pushed the creaky kissing gate open and moved low hanging branches to the side as she passed. Her breath caught at the sight that awaited her and tears sprang to her eyes.

”What…”

She stood on the edge of a circle of large trees, the familiar ground covered in russet coloured leaves. In the centre of the circle sat a stone sculpture of who she now recognized as Isolt Sayre, and her mind spun as she threw open her satchel to find her journal. This could not be!

Flipping through the book, her heart raced as she viewed page after page of the same copse of trees. Clutching the journal to her chest, she closed her eyes and though unrealistic, she allowed herself to hope.

Her jumbled thoughts were interrupted by the sound of crunching leaves and she opened her eyes with a soft gasp. He stepped closer, those olive eyes she knew so well were full of concern and not a dimple was in sight. Her head lifted slightly as he drew closer and she held her breath as he reached up and tenderly wiped the tears from her cheeks.

”Is it really you?” She whispered in disbelief. She knew of course, she didn't need to consult the sketches in her journal to recognize his face.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a boyish grin and he inclined his head.

“It is. Is it really _you_?”

A watery laugh bubbled up from her chest as she shyly nodded in return and she peeked up at him from under her lashes. “I can’t believe this...though this isn’t the craziest thing to happen to me so I’m not sure why I’m surprised. I’m Ginny, by the way.”

“Ian.”

* * *

 

”Wait, so you’re telling me that you ended up in the courtyard today only to realize that you’ve been dreaming of that very place since you were a little girl?”

”Mmhmmm.”

Hermione’s eyes were wide as she processed everything Ginny had confessed. ”And you’ve been dreaming of Ian Clary?”

”Yes, apparently we’ve both dreamt of each other since we were children. Look Mia, I can't explain it but I have sketches of him and the courtyard from as early as age seven.”

Hermione turned her attention back to the mixer while Ginny stirred the ingredients for the cream cheese filling. This was all so surreal.

”Well, I guess you know what this means…”

Ginny raised a brow at the mischievous tone in her friend’s voice. ”What?”

”I get maid of honour duties _and_ I get to be godmother to your many redheaded, green-eyed babies.”

”Hermione Jean!”

The other witch cackled gleefully at the counter and Ginny was tempted to send a stinging jinx at her.

”Seriously though Gin, he's a wonderful man. I met him about a week after moving here, he grows all of the potions ingredients that stock the apothecary as well as much of the produce sold in the market. He reminds me a lot of Neville, actually.”

Ginny smiled warmly, Hermione had nursed a crush on their shy friend for quite a long time. She often wondered if part of her motivation for moving here was to escape the heartache she felt when Neville declared his feelings for Luna.

”What about me, hmm? When do I get to be _your_ maid of honor and godmother to _your_ bushy-haired babies?”

Hermione huffed and busied herself at the counter again. ”At this rate, never… I’m beginning to think I’m meant to live alone with a house full of kneazles. You can be godmother to my kneazles!” She laughed.


End file.
